What differs me from you?

Why does one look down like looking at a dirty shoe?

Disgusted, fussy, and frankly, quite mean.

Is it my face? My glasses? My clothes? My race? Tell me what do you want?

So that you'll look away and leave me less cross...?

I've never seen your face before now, never crossed you wrong,

I haven't done more than hide at my desk like a some kind of fox!

What we both want is the same--can't you see that much?

Loving family, helpful friends, a future that's bright!

Why is it that you can't just let me have it--when you've already your due?

leave me be or they'll see--the dark ass that's in you!

But you won't--you've never before...

We could have been friends, if you had done what was right,

but now, tonight, my life is stolen by a silver hand that is sharp to the touch

when the body is found, the note beside with the stuff in "my box"

they'll see it is all because of you, and your actions so obsene

that drove me so low, that it came to this.

Now we're both wrong, but you'll be left with the guilt

maybe not on the outside, but my blood spilt on your soul

Someday you'll remember and set your blood cold--

just like mine was when I wanted to be left alone.